Star-Crossed
by FairyRingsandWings
Summary: Yon-Rogg crash lands on C-53 and is saved by Carol. Yonvers.
1. The Dreams

**Star-Crossed**

**Chapter 1 - Dreams**

**Tags:** #Pre-Captain Marvel #Dreams #Soulmates

* * *

Everyone has dreams.

But Carol, she only dreams of one thing.

She sees a strange city, buried deep in the earth. There is something alien about this place. The people there are dressed in unusual clothes, never wearing colours other than greens, blues and blacks. Startlingly, the majority of them have blue skin. Sometimes she sees a temple-like structure bathed in sunlight, a gleaming star-like symbol embedded above a mountainous staircase. The glimpses of technology that she sees are sophisticated, more so than anything they have on Earth. They have massive spaceships capable of intergalactic travel, weapons that can manipulate gravity, holographic technology and cybernetic implantations designed to enhance their capabilities.

It's like something out of a wacky sci-fi movie her dad would watch when there was nothing better on TV.

Then there is _him_.

The man in her dreams.

Golden eyes. Sandy brown hair. Handsome. Serious - though he has a playful side of him that he conceals. Infuriatingly patient. Fearless. Kind.

He's always been the star of her dreams.

Sometimes he is training or teaching in a gym like facility with towering walls. Others, he is on a spacecraft with people clad similarly to him - his team, she has come to recognise them as. She sees him in otherworldly places, planets with orange oceans, abnormal forests and glowing cities. He travels often and Carol wishes these places were real so she could experience them herself.

Sometimes he climbs the staircase to the star temple. Those are the times it is most difficult to watch him. He stands on a hexagon shape on the floor. Blue, pulsing, snake-like wires materialise from it and slither around him, connecting to various parts of his body. His expression is often pained and fearful while he is hooked up to the strange device. It invokes a reaction so strong in Carol that she is jolted from her slumber, breathless and blood pumping.

She wants to rip the wires off of him but she has no corporal form in her dreams. She is an observer with no presence. She can't even hear what is being said. It is like the vacuum of space, quiet. Her only explanation for what is going on is through the visual clues that she sees.

It frustrates and upsets her that she cannot interact with this man. He is a stranger. A figment of her imagination. Yet he has always been with her and she yearns to reach out to him, to communicate with him, to let him know that he is not alone. It is an expression she sees far too often on his face. Carol has tried to lucid dream, for this is _her_ mind and she should be able to control what happens, but nothing she does lets her governor what she sees. She only gets to watch. Silent and untouchable.

He feels like a friend. A friend she has grown up with, like characters in her favoritue books.

In her earliest dreams, he was a young child like her. As she aged, so did he. She remembers how he used to dress in very formal, high-class clothes with delicate details and embroidery. He was from a wealthy family, her younger self having likened him to a prince of a distant, yet to be discovered land. He lived in a lavishly adored penthouse with a beautiful balcony terrace that hung over the city below. It was filled with unusual plants and greenery and he had loved to spend his time there.

Nowadays, his clothes are less decorative and more casual, much like his new dwellings which are smaller and cosier. Although it wasn't clear in the short glimpses of his life that she saw each night, Carol reasoned that the changes were due to him moving out of his parents or guardian's home. He seemed to prefer a simpler life without the grandeur.

Her favourite thing to see him wear is his armour. It is black with green panels, an intricate star on the centre of his breastplate. He holds himself proudly, a straight posture and serious expression at all times. He is a warrior or a soldier. Skilled. Talented. Adored. People bow to him as he makes his way through the city streets and public transportation (he likes to travel in something that resembles the underground tube). He is a hero, she feels, a noble warrior hero who the people look up to.

Carol knows he has worked hard to build this adoration and respect. She has seen how his uniform changed throughout the years since he first dawned it when he was in his late teens. She knows he has clawed his way up the ranks of whatever organisation it is that he works for.

Perhaps it was silly, but she was proud of her dream warrior.

He may not be real, but she considered him a friend. A friend who was always there, even if he wasn't.

* * *

"Do you believe in life outside of Earth?"

Carol turns to Lawson, quirking an eyebrow. "What, like aliens?"

They have both been working late on Project Pegasus, by the time they get out the sky is dark and alight with stars. A shooting star streams across the sky, leaving a fleeting trail of dust in its wake. Carol looks back up at the vast darkness, trying not to let her mind wander to her otherworldly dreams.

"Yeah, like aliens," Lawson said.

"I think there's definitely life out there. I just don't think it'll be anything like what we imagine. No little green men with big black eyes and magic fingers."

Lawson laughs. "What do you think they'll look like?"

"No idea," Carol shrugs. She knows what she wants them to look like. "What about you?"

"I think they look exactly like us. Different biologies of course, but pretty similar aesthetically. Or at least, some of them would be."

Carol snorts. "The chances of that are next to none."

"Want to make a bet on that, Ace?"

They part ways, Lawson heading East while Carol heads North. It's about ten miles between the base and her apartment in town. It's a long and lonely drive. She blares her radio, singing atrociously along with the music. She is halfway through the forest road when she hears it. A deafening roar high above. Carol grinds her car to a stop, peering out of the front window just in time to see a blazing comet searing through the air. It crash landed a few yards away in the forest, its impact shaking the ground with an almighty boom.

Carol swives her car over to the edge of the road. She fumbles about to get her torch from her glove compartment before clamouring into the forest in search of the fallen star.

This is probably a bad idea, but she's curious and it is so close! She's never seen anything like that.

She stumbles through the forest, nearly tripping on jutting out roots and broken branches. She can hear a crackling of fire close by, the forest glowing in ambers and red, casting frightening shadows. Carol gasps when she finds the crash site. It is not what she was expecting.

Half buried in the dirt was a vessel of some kind, its silvery surface reflecting the flames around it. It is heavily damaged, its exterior dented and its small wings on fire. Carol creeps forward, thinking that she has never seen a plane like this before. The closer she gets, the more clear it becomes that she _has_ seen something like this. But it wasn't real. It couldn't be real. In her dreams, this vessel is an escape pod, this specific make belonging to the one ship she sees all the time. _His_ ship.

Carol shakes her head. She's being ridiculous. It couldn't possibly be. This had to be some kind of military project gone wrong. Some kind of new technology. It's a coincidence. Or perhaps she has remembered wrong.

A pained groan pulls her attention to the cockpit.

Carol hurries over to it, jumping and climbing over debris and fallen trunks. There is a man behind the glass of the cockpit, she can hardly see him through the heavily cracked glass and dirt smeared over it. She shouldn't know how to open it but she has seen this in her dreams and knows that there is a latch at the side that must be pulled up and twisted. The glass panel creaks and flips up, smoke billowing out from it, making her cough.

The man inside is wearing a green mask, his eyes are closed but he is panting heavily. There is blue liquid oozing from underneath his helmet. Carol tries to wake him but he doesn't respond. She grits her teeth and pulls him out of the cockpit, dragging him away from the fiery wreckage. It's just as well she did, for a moment later the vessel erupted in an explosion, metal fragments and glass flying through the air. Carol dives over the man's body, shielding him with her own.

"That was a close one," Carol whispers.

She turns her attention back to the unconscious man. Now that she has him lain before her, she can't help but notice that he is wearing _that_ armour. Black and green with a silver star. Her heart jolts and she swallows hard. Hesitantly, Carol's fingers skim over the star on his chest. The same star that _he_ wears. She glances up at his face, her fingers slowly slipping under the helmet. With trembling hands, she carefully removes the helmet.

It is him.

Her dream warrior hero.

But this isn't a dream and he is really here. She can feel the warmth of his body, hear his hard intakes of breath and smell smoke and ash that clings to him.

Carol gasps and scurries away from him. She wonders if this is a very vivid dream or if she has finally gone mad. Because this cannot be real. He cannot be here. He is not real. He is nothing but a neverending dream.

His pained moan snaps her attention to his face. She realizes with unease that the blue liquid is oozing from a cut on his head. Its blood. His blood. Her eyes scan over his body, she can see more blue patches seeping through patches in his armour. He is injured - she's not sure how badly - and his wounds need tending to.

"Okay... okay," Carol said, taking in deep breaths. "Focus."

She reaches into her pocket for her cellphone and stops. If this isn't a dream... if this is real... then calling for help was probably the worst thing she could do. He clearly wasn't human. He was something else, especially if her dreams were anything to go by. He had crashed from the sky in a spaceship-like vehicle, wearing armour like nothing they had here on Earth and his blood was blue. In all her dreams, she had seen him piloting a ship through outer space and visiting exotic planets. He had to be an alien, it was the only explanation, as crazy as it seemed to her.

What would the authorities do with him if they got their hands on him? Help him? Maybe. Or maybe they would hand him over to the government who would do who only knows what with him. She couldn't imagine they would patch him up and let him go on his way. This was too big. Way too big. Best case scenario they would lock him up, question him and then study him like an animal. Worst case, his skin met with a scientist's curious dissection blade. She might be being unfair and jumping to all manners of conclusions fueled by cringy TV shows and conspiracy videos, but at least if she took him and helped him, she knew for a fact that he wouldn't be caged and experimented on.

She made a decision then, a stupid, reckless, ill-thought out decision. But one that she knew was right.

Carol took a deep breath, making a quick evaluation of the best way to move him. From on the ground, she wouldn't be able to get him into any kind of shoulder carry and he looked far too heavy for a blanket lift with her jacket. She decided that the best way was to slip her arms under his from behind and pull, letting her keep his head away from the ground. It was difficult navigating the dark forest, but thankfully she had left her car lights on and it provided a decent beacon. She was exhausted, sweating and panting by the time she got him up to her car.

In the distance, she could hear the faint wail of sirens.

"Sorry about this," Carol winced.

She popped open the trunk of her car and with a great deal of strain and huffing, managed to cramp him into it. She hoped she hadn't upset his wounds too much but at the moment she had to get him as far away from here as possible without drawing any unwanted attention to herself. He needed to remain hidden from any passing vehicles. She didn't fancy having to explain why there was an unconscious, blue-blooded alien knight in the back of her car.

Carol hopped into her the driver's seat and drove off. It didn't take her long to come to the security toll booth. She was still in government property and all personnel had to check in and out. Derrick, an older gentleman with grey hair and dark glasses, wobbled out of the booth and towards her car. Carol rolled down the window, offering him a friendly smile as she handed him her ID.

"You're working late tonight, Carol."

"Gotta pay the bills."

A thump from the trunk nearly made Carol wince. Derrick glanced up from inspecting her ID, looking about curiously.

"Did you hear something?" Derrick asked.

There was a temptation to say it was just the dead body in the boot of her car tumbling about, but she felt that might be playing a little too close to the truth. Derrick was used to her sense of humour, but right now, her nerves were on the verge of being fried. She just wanted to get home to safety as soon as she could.

Carol shook her head innocently. "Nope."

"Well, here you go," he handed her back her ID. "Safe travels."

"Cheers."

Carol drove off. She held her breath every time a car drove by or saw the flashing lights of emergency services. She had never felt more relieved than when she finally saw her house at the end of the street. No one had pulled her over. No helicopters had chased her down with spotlights while swat teams descended around her. She had actually pulled it off. Well, mostly. Now she just needed to get him into the house without being seen.

Of all the ways this night could have gone, this way was not on the list. An alien spaceship had crash-landed to Earth, containing not just any alien but the alien she had been dreaming about her entire life. Carol wasn't one to keep her feet on the ground, but thoughts of alien life forms were a little too high for her liking. There was life out there, it was impossible for there not to be. But the chances of Earth finding them and interacting with them were slim to impossible.

It turns out that she was wrong. Very wrong.

And now thanks to the hot alien shoved in the trunk of her car, she owed Lawson thirty bucks.


	2. Soulmates

He isn't going to make it.

Those wretched Xanderian's assault on his ship has left the escape pod heavily damaged. It groans under the pressure as it enters the planet's atmosphere. It was becoming unbearably hot, the exterior of the ship engulfed in flames. Yon-Rogg grits his teeth, face contorting in pain as he struggles to keep the vessel from nose-diving. As the forest terrain below grows closer and closer, Yon-Rogg shuts his eyes.

If this was to be his end then his last thoughts will be of _her_.

His missing other. The lover who would never be. The star beyond his reach.

Vers.

The girl then women who was pushed down by so many but always stood up. She was stubborn. A trouble maker. Hot-Headed. Brave. Hair like sunlight. Eyes as dark as night. Pale skin like Hala's three moons. A soldier of some kind, one that preferred to be airborne than rooted to the ground.

He had promised himself that one day he would find her.

The world that she lives in was clearly not Hala or any of the colonies within the Kree empire. It is a primitive planet, one that has yet to come close to mastery of intergalactic travel. The fashions were unusual and ever-changing, her world never seeming to be able to make up its mind on what style to dress themselves in.

For years, in his spare time when he wasn't training, teaching or on missions, he would make detailed notes of the technology, fashions, environment and animals that he saw glimpses of in his dream, trying to decipher her whereabouts. It had been a fruitless endeavour. Each time she eluded him. A phantom always out of reach. Wherever she was, it was not a planet well known to the Kree.

The day he decided to break that promise was supposed to be one of the greatest days of his life, yet instead, he would look back on it with nothing but bitterness and misery.

It had been the same night of his promotion to Commander of Starforce. He was the youngest Kree to ever have earned the position. His family had held an elaborate banquet for him to show their pride, many of the highest elite in their society attending to give him praise. He hoped that wherever Vers was, she was asleep and was sharing this moment with him. Would she be able to tell figure out what he had achieved? Would she be proud? So many questions, so many tales he wished to share.

One day... he would be able to.

He had gone to bed that night, eager to see her, even if he could not share the good news. The last few months had been busy for her. She was training at some sort of academy. It filled him with joy to see that both of them had taken such similar career paths in their lives, choosing to become warriors to protect people and their nations.

That night, she had been participating in an obstacle course, swinging from one rope to another. It was a straining and difficult task which put a great deal of stress on the upper body. He had been rooting for her, proud of how far she had gone when she slipped, hitting the ground hard. He had wanted to throttle the men that laughed at her. Ever strong and determined, Vers got to her feet, ready to try again.

The proud smile on his face slipped when he saw the blood trickling from her elbow.

It was red.

She wasn't a Kree.

The realisation was so abrupt and disturbing that it jolted him awake. He had been breathless, sweat glistening across his skin and his heart hammering in his chest.

What he saw should not be possible. Soul bonds were exclusive to the Kree, they didn't share them with other species. Yet it explained so much. The clues had always been there, but for two decades he had remained oblivious to them - or perhaps he had been willfully ignorant.

In all his time knowing her, he had never once seen Vers demonstrate any understanding of Kree culture. She celebrated none of their holidays, traditions or ways of life. He had assumed that her parents had decided to reject the Kree way or that Vers was an orphan raised by lesser creatures who knew nothing of the Kree lifestyles.

The rest of the night and day he had avoided sleep, throwing himself into his training. It was a delaying tactic that would not last long.

His entire being had ached to see her again, but he had enough mercy for himself not to submit to the desire. It would be torture to see her, knowing that she would never be his. He would never get to speak or banter with her, hold her in his arms or kiss her. Kree were forbidden from interspecies relationships, they had to keep their bloodlines pure. As Commander of Starforce, it was his duty to uphold the law and act as a beacon of example for others to live by.

And so... he had gone to the Supreme Intelligence and confessed his plight.

The bond was severed and the dreams ended.

Now, as he plummets towards his end, he thinks of nothing but her. His heart filled with longing and regret.

* * *

_Easy... you're safe now... rest... I'm sorry... this is gonna hurt... oh man, what am I doing?_

Yon-Rogg hears a voice, it was pleasant and distinctively female. All he could see was darkness, there was no energy in his body to open his eyelids or move. He is hardly conscious, only vaguely aware of the pain that his body was in.

_I am way over my head... can't believe this... if the men in black turn up at my door I swear..._

Hours - or was it days? - later, Yon-Rogg finally musters the strength to wake up. His body is sore and stiff and his throat is dry. He glances around the room, taking in the unfamiliar location. He is in a domestic dwelling of some kind and he was lying on a couch. The style of the room was strange, but oddly familiar too, though he couldn't place it. It has a cosy feel to it and it was certainly one of the more pleasant places he has woken up to. He isn't chained or tied up like last time and there were no forcefields or bars to be found, so he hasn't been captured by an enemy. The question remains then, where was he?

It takes him a moment, but he finally sees her, curled up on the window seat, silhouetted by moonlight. Bonde hair peeking out from a starry blanket. He can't make out most of her face as it is buried within the blanket and hidden behind her hair. He notices that there was blood on her cheek. Blue blood. He frowns, wondering if he has somehow been found by another Kree. Surely not on C-53? There were Kree who lived outside of the empire - mostly rogues and restless, foolish souls who sought something different - but it was rare, especially for a place as far away as this.

When he sees the basin of water murky with blood and stained cotton swabs and cloth, he realises that the blood on her face wasn't her own. It was his. His eyes drift down to his bare chest where a bandage was fastened around his waist. There were linen patches stuck to his arms as well. She had tended to his wounds. Whoever she was.

Yon-Rogg peels the large plaster from his arm. Whatever injury had been there had healed, most of the smaller ones would have as well. The one on his stomach still felt tender and stung as he moved, making him feel queasy and sick - that one would take a day or two more to heal.

He pushes aside the blanket that has pooled at his waist and makes his way over to the sleeping women, his hand pressing against his stomach to ebb the pain.

It was most likely that she was a Terran, a species that looked similar to his own but was weaker and had a drastically shorter life span. He figured that this was her home that she had brought him to.

He wonders if the escape pod was nearby and what its status was. He'd be surprised if there was anything salvageable. He would have to try and contact Starforce to send a retrieval crew to collect him. To do that, he would need the communicator in his gauntlet.

He was rather disturbed to find his armour had been removed. No non-Kree should have been able to take it off of him as there were special codes to de-activate it. How had she known them? Or worse, had she somehow managed to destroy his armour to take it off? The thought displeased him but he had no right to complain about how his rescuer had saved him. He hopes that she hadn't destroyed the communicator, otherwise he was stranded.

Yon-Rogg sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He would need to wait until she woke to ask. He could wake her himself, but he did not want to be rude to the person who had saved him or startle her. Instead, he takes the opportunity to look around the room, quietly moving about.

On the walls were certificates, degrees, and several awards for aviation and first aid. His saviour was well accomplished. Carol Danvers was the name on all the certificates. It was an odd name by Kree standards.

Further along the wall, he finds a collage of photographs.

His blood runs cold.

It was Vers.

His eyes desperately scan the other images. She was everywhere. As a child, a teenager and an adult. In some photo's she was with others - friends, family, fellow students and recruits - and in others, she was posing in front of various landscapes and structures.

In one photograph she was a child, standing beside the two older people he had concluded were her guardians or parents. She was stood in front of a lake, a metal pole in her hand and a fish wriggling at the end of the attached string. He remembered that day. It was the first time she had caught a fish. She had been so overjoyed that she had slipped on the rocks and fell right into the lake afterwards.

He would have smiled at the memory had the presence of the photographs not been so shocking. It couldn't be possible. The chances of him finding her were astronomical.

And yet...

"You're awake."

Yon-Rogg's body goes rigid. Slowly, he turns around.

Any doubts he had were erased the moment he saw her. It had been six years since he had last seen her. Short blonde hair, pale skin and more beautiful than he remembered.

Vers. His Vers. The women that has haunted his every slumbering moment, who his heart aches to be near.

Instinctively, he takes a step forward, wanting to reach out and touch her, to confirm that she really was here, that this wasn't a delusion of a dying man. He stops when she takes a step back. She was wary of him, he could see it now, how she is tense and ready to defend herself if need be. He wants to reassure her that she was safe with him. He would never hurt her. Didn't she know who he was?

"It would seem so," he said gently, taking a step back, letting her have her space.

Vers looks startled, eyes widening. "You speak English?"

Yon-Rogg taps his neck. "I have a universal translator implanted in my neck that allows me to speak and understand any language."

"Ah," she nods. "That's nifty."

He wasn't sure what nifty meant but judging from her tone it was a good thing. She sounds intrigued, looking at his neck curiously as if wanting to see the implant for herself.

He gestures to the bandages around his stomach. "I can see you tended to my wounds. Thank you."

"No problem. Um...I'm afraid your escape pod exploded, there's nothing left of it."

That was disappointing but not unexpected.

"I didn't think it would survive the crash," Yon-Rogg admits. He could hardly believe that _he_ had survived it. "Where am I?"

"My home," Vers replies. "I would have taken you to the hospital but given your... unusual origins, I didn't think that would be the best idea."

"How so?" he frowns.

"We don't come across many aliens on our planet. Which, is what I'm guessing you are... considering the space ship and blue blood."

Yon-Rogg nods, understanding. "Your planet isn't connected to the wider galaxy yet. I suppose my appearance would create quite a stir."

Vers laughs. "Just a little."

When they fall into silence Yon-Rogg wishes that he could start the conversation over. He had daydreamed about this day since he was a child, and even after he had given up hope on it ever happening, he had still indulged himself with how it could play out. He had wanted their first meeting to be perfect. He had imagined himself being playful and charming, her rebuffing him with witty quips and teasing punches.

When soulmates met on Hala, it was supposed to be a feeling like no other. His father had described waiting to meet one's soulmate like falling into darkness, never knowing when you were about to crash into the ground below. But then you find them and with them, you discover you were able to fly. All the anxiety and impatience disappear, replaced with a sense of contentment and overwhelming joy.

Yon-Rogg had never imagined that when he met his soulmate it would be when he had crash-landed on her planet and she was the first creature from another world she had ever met. She was nervous about him and hadn't shown any signs of recognizing him.

His heart twinges, realizing how foolish he had been. Of course, he had known it was unlikely that she knew of the soulmate bound, about what the dreams meant, but he had still dared to hope. Now there is a pit of dread stirring within him. What is she had never dreamed of his at all?

She was a Terran and it was unheard of for any species other than a Kree to have a soulmate bound. Who knows how it would work on her end? If at all.

"Where is my armour?" Yon-Rogg asks. He needs to contact Starforce soon, so they could be informed of the Xanderian attack and could send a recovery scout to collect him. But he also wants to test whether or not she had dreamt of him.

"That depends. You're not planning on taking over my world and enslaving all of humanity are you?"

At first, Yon-Rogg is bewildered by her statement. Why in Hala's name would she come to such a conclusion? Had C-53 experienced negative extraterrestrials encounters in the past? It wasn't until he sees the twinkle in Vers eyes that he knew she was joking. It was a strange thing to joke about but he finds himself smiling.

"The Kree do not do that. We're a race of noble warriors who help other planets that are too weak to defend themselves." He decides it was best to reassure her. Despite the humour in her voice, he can see that there is a flicker of real concern there. "You have no reason to fear us."

She assesses him for a moment, before nodding toward a door at the other end of the room. "Your armours in the bathtub. It got a little messy with blood and dirt."

"How did you manage to take it off me?"

"An educated guess. And a lot of fiddling."

"You could have only taken it off if you knew my codes," Yon-Rogg points out.

Vers cheeks blush a little, her eyes widening. He can see that she was trying to come up with a believable lie and is failing miserably.

Yon-Rogg laughs. The soulmate bound didn't care for privacy or decency. If she had removed his armour then she knew the codes, which meant she had seen him taking off his uniform. He wasn't shy about it, but it seemed that she was.

A sharp pain in his stomach makes him cry out and he stumbles against the wall to keep balance. Vers forgets her wariness and runs over to him, catching him before he fell to the floor. Her touch is cool on his too warm skin, and he wishes that he could feel more of her.

"Easy there, E.T," Vers says, struggling with his weight. She helps him limp back to the couch before laying him down. "Try not to move too much."

"E.T?" Yon-Rogg asks, gasping as the pain in his stomach intensifies. He feels sick. The pain slowly spreading across his mid-section. His head is starting to hurt too.

"It's a... nevermind," Vers shakes her head. She kneels down beside him and places the back of her hand on his forehead, checking his temperature. "What is your name anyway?"

"Yon-Rogg."

"Yon-Rogg," she repeats, and he decides that he very much liked how she said it. "Mines Carol."

"Carol... I'm so used to calling you Vers that might take a while to get used to," Yon-Rogg grits out, the pain making him wince.

Vers - no, Carol - frowns and gives him an odd look. She pulls her hand away. He longs for its return on his skin.

"What do you mean?" she asks quietly.

Yon-Rogg has just enough of a clear mind to know he shouldn't have said that. He curses himself. He knew she had to have had dreams about him, the armour codes were proof enough, but that didn't mean she knew what they meant. He should have kept his knowledge of them hidden. It would be better if she didn't know the truth. After all, what good would it do? They could never be together, no matter how much he wanted it.

Another shot of pain strikes through him and he cries out, clenching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. He hears Carol fluttering around him, calling out to him before everything goes black.


End file.
